I have never seen the concept of parasocial relationships explained so perfectly—because everything else focuses on the theory of it, on the feeders, never on what happens to the person being fed off of, being dismantled and dragged into an arena they never asked for, simply for the humanity of having a creative voice and using it.
It’s the access. It doesn’t matter what you do, if you write, sing, teach yoga…if you do it online or out in the world and you’re a woman, you’re supposed to be grateful. Accommodating. Nice. Boundaries are for bitches. I wrote an essay a few years ago, it doesn’t even matter what it was about. Some guy read it. He showed up at my yoga studio. My schedule was online because it had to be. He waited outside. My sitter showed up with my kids when my class was over. I came out to find a strange fucking man talking to my son. He handed me a letter. He left. The letter said we were soulmates, he knew after he read the essay. The guy showed up for weeks after class. I said leave me the fuck alone, do not come here. Then I saw him once when I was at the playground with my kids. The police wouldn’t do anything because he hadn’t acted yet. You have to wait to be attacked to get help. It’s fucking ridiculous any of us do anything. But I’m so glad you do and I’m listening to Chappell Roan right now. Her post was phenomenal and this essay of yours is phenomenal as usual and I hope people get it. I don’t know if they will but I hope they do. Love you.
“All you are entitled to from an artist is the art you purchased.” You can enjoy the dog photos and the anecdotes. But you can be respectful of privacy as you do so. Just the like button can be enough. It’s like the little chin nod as you pass someone on the street. Says I see you, as you continue on your way.
Didn't even know who Chappell Roan was until today. And I saw the article earlier today about her saying that she owes people nothing personal, it's a persona. Her private life has nothing to do with the"press" or insta or anything. And now this article explaining in greater detail the shit people go thru, it's generally horrific to be in the public eye, barely noticed or overly analyzed. People need a buffer from people. Thank you for reliving this anxiety for us to try and understand.
I can't imagine the exhaustion you and others feel having to fend off unwanted attention. I'm sure it's worse for women than it is for men because I felt this since I was in sixth grade. I was sexually harassed and body shamed and called names because I had boobs. I was stalked by a high-school boy and a grown-ass man in my apartment complex. I think I became a bitch because I spent all my time being scared.
And I'm not famous
It took reading Kathleen Hanna's book to realize just how dangerous it was to grow up in the seventies—and how stupid it is to think anything has changed.
As a talk radio host, television news reporter/ anchor, and a newspaper columnist, it was literally my job to court parasocial relationships.
When my television employer bought an advertising campaign “Friends You Can Turn To,” billboards, print ads, commercials featured on-air personalities as A Friend You Can Turn To and my life became “Bitch! You’re supposed to be a friend I can turn to!”
I'm so fucking sorry. You didn't ask for this and neither did she, I don't care what people say. I could never deal with this, I panic at far less. That fish flopping in the chest feeling... ugh. I hope people appreciate the generosity with which you continue to share your writing with us despite this bullshit and the toll it takes.
Absolutely excellent essay. So good because you described in a linear way how quickly things happened and how the steps in your career fueled the fame and then the stress, and the people.
And it was their behavior that messed things up. We always think we own things in this culture. And we always want more, more of someone, more contact, just more more more. It's just often never enough to know someone exists and love their work and them. That, and we're always looking for someone to save us. It sounds like a lot of the people coming after you wanted that.
As in "Wow, her music saved me that third year in college". The way I see it is this; that music helped you save yourself. I worked for many years as a nurse. Nurses and doctors don't heal people. We create an atmosphere, particularly nurses, in which the patient gets support for wanting to get better. Every time you entered a hospital room, your job was to make things better in some small atmospheric way, either by how you addressed the patient, by how you touched them, by how you greeted family there, whatever.
But my point is this, to get back to your essay. We just don't understand that if we own someone's CD or book, we don't own them. They helped us, made us feel known, gave us inspiration, strength, but in the end it's still just us, having to do the work. And we should leave the artists and writers alone. They have already given us everything we need.
Oh my god, I hate that you went through that. And I could not have imagined it, so thank you for sharing your experience. I loved seeing her set a boundary. But this is really potent context.
Wow you’re a fantastic writer. I actually read the cable guy essay when it was published and subscribed to your Substack without making the connection. I wonder if men have these issues. Somehow I doubt it.
I’m a fan, but I don’t love you, at least not the way you describe. In fact, I’m not even sure I’d like you if I knew you. What I do love is the way you write. The way you can make me think, feel, laugh, even cry. I can only imagine how it must feel to have the celebrity vampires sucking the life out of you, suffocating you with their ‘love’ Obviously, millions of people also love the way you write. I feel like the rest of us only want what you choose to share, and we are happy to get it.
I have zero idea who Chappell Roan is. However, it makes me increasingly sad that people can't pursue their dreams, have a date, or an authentic relationship, without it having/needing to be posted somewhere...anywhere...for others to see and then shared with the world. It happens to people no one else knows and your explanation of what happens to people who are "known" is staggering.
I have never seen the concept of parasocial relationships explained so perfectly—because everything else focuses on the theory of it, on the feeders, never on what happens to the person being fed off of, being dismantled and dragged into an arena they never asked for, simply for the humanity of having a creative voice and using it.
Thank you, Antonia.
It’s the access. It doesn’t matter what you do, if you write, sing, teach yoga…if you do it online or out in the world and you’re a woman, you’re supposed to be grateful. Accommodating. Nice. Boundaries are for bitches. I wrote an essay a few years ago, it doesn’t even matter what it was about. Some guy read it. He showed up at my yoga studio. My schedule was online because it had to be. He waited outside. My sitter showed up with my kids when my class was over. I came out to find a strange fucking man talking to my son. He handed me a letter. He left. The letter said we were soulmates, he knew after he read the essay. The guy showed up for weeks after class. I said leave me the fuck alone, do not come here. Then I saw him once when I was at the playground with my kids. The police wouldn’t do anything because he hadn’t acted yet. You have to wait to be attacked to get help. It’s fucking ridiculous any of us do anything. But I’m so glad you do and I’m listening to Chappell Roan right now. Her post was phenomenal and this essay of yours is phenomenal as usual and I hope people get it. I don’t know if they will but I hope they do. Love you.
“All you are entitled to from an artist is the art you purchased.” You can enjoy the dog photos and the anecdotes. But you can be respectful of privacy as you do so. Just the like button can be enough. It’s like the little chin nod as you pass someone on the street. Says I see you, as you continue on your way.
Didn't even know who Chappell Roan was until today. And I saw the article earlier today about her saying that she owes people nothing personal, it's a persona. Her private life has nothing to do with the"press" or insta or anything. And now this article explaining in greater detail the shit people go thru, it's generally horrific to be in the public eye, barely noticed or overly analyzed. People need a buffer from people. Thank you for reliving this anxiety for us to try and understand.
I can't imagine the exhaustion you and others feel having to fend off unwanted attention. I'm sure it's worse for women than it is for men because I felt this since I was in sixth grade. I was sexually harassed and body shamed and called names because I had boobs. I was stalked by a high-school boy and a grown-ass man in my apartment complex. I think I became a bitch because I spent all my time being scared.
And I'm not famous
It took reading Kathleen Hanna's book to realize just how dangerous it was to grow up in the seventies—and how stupid it is to think anything has changed.
Celebrity amps it up a gazillion times.
Thanks for sharing.
As a talk radio host, television news reporter/ anchor, and a newspaper columnist, it was literally my job to court parasocial relationships.
When my television employer bought an advertising campaign “Friends You Can Turn To,” billboards, print ads, commercials featured on-air personalities as A Friend You Can Turn To and my life became “Bitch! You’re supposed to be a friend I can turn to!”
Nightmare
I'm so fucking sorry. You didn't ask for this and neither did she, I don't care what people say. I could never deal with this, I panic at far less. That fish flopping in the chest feeling... ugh. I hope people appreciate the generosity with which you continue to share your writing with us despite this bullshit and the toll it takes.
Absolutely excellent essay. So good because you described in a linear way how quickly things happened and how the steps in your career fueled the fame and then the stress, and the people.
And it was their behavior that messed things up. We always think we own things in this culture. And we always want more, more of someone, more contact, just more more more. It's just often never enough to know someone exists and love their work and them. That, and we're always looking for someone to save us. It sounds like a lot of the people coming after you wanted that.
As in "Wow, her music saved me that third year in college". The way I see it is this; that music helped you save yourself. I worked for many years as a nurse. Nurses and doctors don't heal people. We create an atmosphere, particularly nurses, in which the patient gets support for wanting to get better. Every time you entered a hospital room, your job was to make things better in some small atmospheric way, either by how you addressed the patient, by how you touched them, by how you greeted family there, whatever.
But my point is this, to get back to your essay. We just don't understand that if we own someone's CD or book, we don't own them. They helped us, made us feel known, gave us inspiration, strength, but in the end it's still just us, having to do the work. And we should leave the artists and writers alone. They have already given us everything we need.
Oh my god, I hate that you went through that. And I could not have imagined it, so thank you for sharing your experience. I loved seeing her set a boundary. But this is really potent context.
I’m so proud of her for calling bullshit on the entitlement. And thank you!
Wow you’re a fantastic writer. I actually read the cable guy essay when it was published and subscribed to your Substack without making the connection. I wonder if men have these issues. Somehow I doubt it.
I’m a fan, but I don’t love you, at least not the way you describe. In fact, I’m not even sure I’d like you if I knew you. What I do love is the way you write. The way you can make me think, feel, laugh, even cry. I can only imagine how it must feel to have the celebrity vampires sucking the life out of you, suffocating you with their ‘love’ Obviously, millions of people also love the way you write. I feel like the rest of us only want what you choose to share, and we are happy to get it.
People need to just say thank you and mind their own damn business. You don’t owe any “fans”, “stans “, or “followers” anything.
I hate that this is what we do to our idols.
I worry a lot that I come off too familiar with you because I really dig the way you write. And your voice *feels* familiar.
(I hope I’ve never made you uncomfortable)
Thank you for always speaking the raw truth.
I remember. It was a lot. <3 love you.
I have zero idea who Chappell Roan is. However, it makes me increasingly sad that people can't pursue their dreams, have a date, or an authentic relationship, without it having/needing to be posted somewhere...anywhere...for others to see and then shared with the world. It happens to people no one else knows and your explanation of what happens to people who are "known" is staggering.
All of this was SO well said, but this line in particular really got me: ‘I was a character in a play they’d written in their minds.’ Holy shit, YES.
Something similar happened to me on a much, much smaller scale and even then, it was fucking terrifying.
Much respect to you.